Touch Her You Die
by A Midnight Note
Summary: This is one reason why Belarus is so insistent on marriage.


"Well?" His voice was cold and demanding as he turned to face her. "How did it go this time?"

Belarus kept her face as indifferent as she could. "Rejected." Just as the last syllable left her lips she felt his hand smack into her jaw.

"And what did I tell you about rejections?" With venom filling his voice he grabbed her collar and pulled her face closer to his. She simply stared him down as she repeated his words for what felt like the nine-hundredth time.

"Rejection is not allowed. Failure is unacceptable." Her voice kept its monotone as she braced herself. On cue, he smacked her again, this time cutting her bottom lip with one of his rings. Still, she remained still.

"_Exactly._" He hissed, "Yet you come back every time a failure." Lukashenko tossed her away from him, as if she were diseased. She fell against the stone pot in the far corner of the office. She was sure he kept it there just to throw her into it. Pulling her self up again, she mentally assessed herself. _One rib on the right cracked, lip bleeding, a large bruise on my back and another on my cheek._ Something must have put him in a good mood today. She stood and waited for his tirade to continue. For a few moments he simply paced a few feet away and muttered to himself.

Finally he turned to face her with a smile. Immediately her heart sunk. The only time he wore_ that_ smile was when the beatings were about to get much, _much_ worse.

Before she could think much more, his fist slammed into her cheek, an involuntary grunt escaping her lips. "Either you convince him to agree to the union or you will die trying."

"I can not die so long as this country exist." Her voice was steady and only a sliver of spite escaping, holding back as much emotion as she could. Lukashenko's face contorted into utter rage.

"Vile witch!" He howled as more blows battered her face and sides. Belarus did her best to keep her face indifferent. Over they years she had found out a few things about Lukashenko's beating habits. If she showed emotion, he would enjoy it more and they would last longer. While, although satisfying, if she responded with facts and sarcasm, the blows would be harder. Though the beating its self would be shorter.

Again he showered hits on her, strategically placing blows so that they would bruise and pain her, but not break any bones. Another punch to her cheek. Then he grabbed her by both shoulders and shook her viciously. Between clenched teeth, "Next time, you better get him to accept," He hissed to her, "Or else I will find a way to kill you." With the last word he threw her against the wall. She sucked in as much air as she could before glaring at him.

He paced closer. "If only your kind didn't exist." He spat before crouching down to look her in the eye, "Then my job would be so much easier. I could rid myself of your useless peasants." He stood up and spat near her before leaving. Just outside the door he heard him speak to a guard. "Take her home."

**Упругость**

The next day I got up stiffly to get ready for the day's conference. My phone beeped at me incessantly that I had several missed calls and unanswered texts, but I honestly couldn't have cared. Walking over to my bedroom mirror, I began an inventory my damages. I started to cover the ones that would be exposed.

"Damn it." I breathed. Patting more concealer on the bruise on my left cheek I began to realize it wouldn't be covered. I stepped back from the mirror with a frown. Typically this would mean that I'd miss the meeting. But today I was feeling spiteful. _That bastard won't keep me in._ Stubbornly I finished getting ready and spoke bitterly aloud to no one; "Who will notice bruise anyway? It is not like they will question me." With that, I tugged my bow into place and left.

Walking into the conference hall everything seemed normal. Latvia and Lichtenstein scurried away, while everyone else simply avoided looking at me. I felt a rush of triumph as I sat down without any commotion. _Take that, asshole._ I pulled out my notes from last week's meeting and read over them with a small smile.

I was about to turn the page when I felt eyes on me. Looking up I saw Russia, Lithuania and Ukraine all staring at me. More specifically, my cheek. I frowned as I glanced around the room. A couple other groups of European nations in twos and threes were staring at me. I simply ignored them and started reading again. _Hopefully they're staring for another reason._

"Natasha?" a quietly cheerful voice asked.

"Da?" I looked up to find my Ivan sitting down next to me.

"Explain to Russia something?" It was more of a demand, than question.

"_Chto?_" My voice was careful and guarded.

"Who was to be giving Russia's _sladkii_ that bruise?" _Der'mo._ My frown deepened slightly as I debated what to know. One couldn't exactly ignore Russia's demands, and he _did_ call me his sweet.

Keeping my monotone; "Lukashenko." I scribbled something on my notes as Ivan's fist curled around his pipe.

Giggling psychotically, "I should have guessed, da? That man thinks he can be putting hands on _moi sladkii_?"

"Vanya," Curiosity colouring my voice, "What are you to be thinking?"

"That your dictator will be getting visit from my men." I tossed his words around in my head for a moment. Contemplating my options before speaking.

"If you send them; make sure they are to be killing him." I was done with that man, and if _I_ couldn't kill him. . Well, I wasn't going to stop anyone from doing it for me.


End file.
